


Furiously Alive

by staredecisis



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, and soon a lot more Nick and interactions with the brotherhood, i finally have the time & energy again so expect more fallout 4, laying the groundwork for more stuff to come u feel me, might as well put it up here?, ps this is really short i know but this is, this is just something i had laying around so?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staredecisis/pseuds/staredecisis
Summary: Hancock works to try and understand his new traveling companion and adjusting to life outside of Goodneighbour. Along the way, he's allowed a quick glimpse of who she might have been before the war.





	Furiously Alive

“Hey, Hancock,” He glances up from behind the counter, “Think fast.” 

He barely manages to grab the box of Mentats as it’s lobbed over her shoulder towards him, laying it down gingerly. “Find anything else useful?” Hancock sighs and nudges a molded scrap of newspaper with his foot, returning to scour the register and accompanying shelves. “Nothing over here but dust and a wrench or two.”

He can hear her sigh from across the room. Mina straightens up and he can see she’s working to keep the disappointment from showing on her face. As a gesture of sympathy, he loosely holds out the Mentants and knows full well she won’t accept them, as she never does, but the least he can do is offer. The gesture earns him the sliver of a tired smile and she shakes her head. “A noble sacrifice, but one I’ll pass on for now. Thanks anyway, Hancock.

“You start thinkin’ otherwise,” He gives her a curt nod, delicately slipping the box into his coat pocket, “You just let me know, sister.” 

For the first two days they’d traveled together, Mina had somewhat awkwardly accepted the occasional chem he slipped her way and tucked it into her bag, saying she’d use it when they camped out for the night. It wasn’t until the third day that it occurred to him that she wasn’t using them at all and it was only when she had apologized profusely and returned a large handful to him, saying she didn’t want to be impolite and refuse. Still, he offers and she gives him that little glimmer of a smile as they both know she’s going to pass. 

But now, he wishes he could offer up something actually good and truly edible. It’s been a week since they’ve encountered a proper trader and the food carefully stored within Mina’s bag is dwindling dangerously low. He doesn’t need much to go on, one of the perks of being a  _ ghoul _ , but Mina looks more tired than usual and he’d gladly swap some Buffout for a box of Fancy Lads right about now

“Dammit,” Mina finally sighs and closes an ancient shelf, the rusty creak obnoxious within the otherwise quiet room“Looks like this place was cleared out ages ago.”

“If we get up right when the sun rises,” Hancock says, “We can make Oberland by, I don’t know, midday, maybe? They have to have something we can buy off them.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” She nods, casting a quick glance around the remains of the tire store they’ve been scavenging. It’s still standing in one piece, which isn’t bad all things considered, and even with a lack of food the place still has doors. “Wanna’ stay here tonight? I’m sure some of the paper here would burn to make a decent fire.” 

“Bunked down in worse places,” Hancock nods cheerfully and begins to kick aside some of the loose paper and dust scattered over the concrete floor. “No mole rats, no dank old skeletons to clear out, this place is practically a hotel.” 

It’s been a good few weeks, a welcome change from what was become a far too regular routine within Goodneighbour. He’d had his doubts, of course, but he reminds himself they were certainly warranted to avoid feeling guilty. She’d first appeared with Nick yards behind her, jacket splattered with blood and staring down Finn with one of the coldest glares he’s ever been witness to. She hadn’t taken that incident well and before he could even put his knife away, Mina had been practically seething in his face, snapping that  _ that  _ hadn’t been necessary, she could’ve handled it on her own. At the time, he’d chalked it up to be another person eager to prove themselves within Goodneighbor, throw their weight around a little bit even if it looked as though she didn’t have that much weight on her, but within a few days of traveling he’d realized he had been wrong. 

What Mina had meant is that she didn’t want Finn to  _ die _ because, as he’d come to understand, she was particularly adverse to anyone dying unless there were no alternatives left or they deserved it. 

Within minutes, she’d passed out right in the middle of the street to everyone’s enormous confusion. Poor Nick had been beside himself with guilt once Amari had determined the cause to be rads, leaving Hancock to remind him gently that it wasn’t his fault and that adjusting to the Wealth’ could include what most people would call a  _ learning curve.  _ Nick had clammed up then, refusing to confirm the obvious: whoever he’d dragged along with him into Goodneighbor was both a vault dweller and someone fresh out of a vault. Not my story to tell, Nick had said succinctly and to Hancock’s faint frustration while Mina had been recovering. However upon Hancock’s insinuation that someone that green wasn’t going to last another week, Nick had informed him coolly, and with a hint of pride, that only earlier that morning Mina had shot Conrad Kellogg in the head and was now wearing his jacket. 

From then on, Hancock had determined it was best not to underestimate her and so far, it had served him well.

She and Nick had come and gone for the next month, showing up occasionally to barter with K-L-E-O or, as he came to discover, return a book for Daisy. The closing of what might be termed “ _ The Bobbi Fiasco _ ” had seemed a reason as good enough as any to venture out of town for a little bit and work to ignore that lingering guilt burrowed in the pit of his stomach.

He hasn’t regretted the decision for a single moment, not even as he lays out a threadbare blanket over the cold concrete floor beneath them. The last few rays of sunset stream in through the window and he gathers a small pile of faded newspaper together. Mina prefers sleeping near a fire, he’s learned, and he suspects it’s because watching your husband die and your child stolen before slipping back into a perpetual chill tends to leave one wanting to sleep warm. He’s never asked her outright, of course, he’s not  _ that _ rude, but there’s always been a silent gratitude in her eyes at the absence of questions. Hancock intends to keep it that way. He’s always found people offer up explanation when they’re good and ready and far be it from him to assume readiness. 

“If you see anything else faintly flammable,” Mina states when the fire’s finally starting to catch, “Toss it my way. It’s weird, for the record,” She glances towards him and tosses a stack of money atop the newspaper, “Burning up something that you used to pay for  _ everything  _ with.”

“Still gettin’ used to caps?”

“Honestly?” A sliver of a grin appears. “I used to  _ hate  _ Nuka-Cola, thought it was was disgusting, but if I’d known better I’d have stockpiled the fucking stuff. Jesus, I could be a millionaire now.” 

“What would you spend it on?” He laughs softly and draws his knees to his chest. “No offense, but you’re not really strikin’ me as the chem lord sort of person.” 

A hand is pressed above her heart in mock offense. “I could be, if I wanted to, thanks very much. I just don’t want to, that’s all.” 

“You have to  _ try _ the chems in order to be a decent chem lord, sorry to break it to you. Nobody’s gonna shell out for sub-par product here. That’s capitalism.”

“Nope, first rule of being a drug lord: don’t try your shit yourself. Make someone else try it for you.” Mina arches a brow, “You wanna’ volunteer?”

Hancock snorts, rasping out, “Sorry, but being a sidekick ain’t really my thing, you feel?”

“Woah now, don’t go putting words in my mouth. I never said sidekick, you’d be chief product tester. People used to make all kinds of money for that back in the day, get an official nametag for it, even.” 

“Nametag, huh?” He sits up, gnarled finger tapping his chin in consideration. “I already have the problem of people not exactly recognizing me, so-” She’s too clever by half, Mina Sullivan, and he wonders what she must have been like before the war. He suspects it’s that cleverness that’s kept her alive so far more than any true understanding of what survival entails or strength of arm. (She is good with a pistol, however, he does have to give her that.) “You let me try free chems, get me an official name tag, none of that nickname shit, and I’ll give your brand new chem business good reviews. Trust me, my reviews  _ matter _ .”

She tries to hide a grin. “Deal.”

There’s a distant roll of thunder then, loud enough they both flinch, and Hancock carefully stands up and brushes off his worn jacket. The sun’s set by now and he can see the faint lights of Diamond City off in the distance, a small flicker against the darkness cloaking the Commonwealth around them. Above the skeletal edifices of Boston, however, he spies dark clouds quickly moving across the sky towards them. “Looks like we’ve got a storm moving in,” He announces over his shoulder. 

“From the Glowing Sea?”

A pause as his gaze scours the clouds for any glimpse of the eerie, tell tale green. “Nah, just regular rain, I guess.” He shrugs and picks up another handful of newspapers to toss on the fire before sitting down. 

Mina ties up her auburn hair, features pensive. “I used to love the rain when I was a kid, back before being out in the rain could, you know, kill you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” She eases back down, curling up beneath her worn blanket and shifting closer towards the fire. “Our house had a tin roof so whenever it rained, you could really hear it. I would fall asleep to it in the summer, kept things cool. We, uh,” Mina pauses, tongue swiping over her lower lip in consideration by the glow of the firelight, “We weren’t super rich, we weren’t like all the people in on the billboards and magazines. Plenty of people back then didn’t live like that, we sure as hell didn’t.” 

He grows quiet then, reaching into his pocket and tossing a Mentat into his mouth. He’s never been particularly fond of talking about things before the timeline he’s created to serve his life, the distinct before and after. However, Hancock silently determines that Mina’s at least earned something. “Our roof, was, uh, wood. Old wood, used to sag when we’d get really bad storms.” It occurs to him that he isn’t sure if the shack is still even there, littered amidst the shambling homes of Diamond City. It’s been so long since he was there and it’s not like his brother would keep it around from sentimental reasons. He makes a mental note to ask Nick next time he sees him to check it out for him. 

Sure enough, the sound of rain falling against the ancient roof begins, lightly tapping against the stained windows. It’s a peaceful sound, Hancock has to admit, and it’s been longer than he’d care to admit since he heard it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Mina’s expression softening. 

The fire begins to fade before long and he’s practically asleep, lulled by the simple symphony of the storm and the Mentat dissolving against his tongue. The concrete floor, of course, fucking  _ sucks  _ but he reminds himself that this is better than what people of people out in the Commonwealth have to call him and for that, he better suck it up and be grateful. 

He cracks open an eye when Mina whispers, “Hancock?” He rolls onto his side, grumbling his awareness. There’s a brief pause before she continues. “Do you still have that Rad-X?” 

“Probably, why?”

“I need to use it.”

“Why?” He sits up now, brow furrowed, and fumbles around in his pockets for it. 

“I wanna’ go outside.”

“No way,” He immediately pauses, shaking his head. “There’s plenty of rads in that rain, I can sense em’.”

She sits up too now, rolling her eyes. “That’s what the Rad-X is for.”

“Mina,” Hancock sighs heavily, “Don’t go makin’ me feel like I have to be some kind of impulse control here, that’s the last thing I want. No offense, but you’re gonna’ freeze your ass off, get sick as hell, and then Nick’s going to kill me for it.” 

She silences him with a look, hand extended. 

“Jesus, just don’t go blamin’ me when you get sick,” Hancock groans and drops the Rad-X into her palm, “I’m still bitter you’re forcing me to be the responsible one right now.” 

She pops a pill into her mouth, seemingly unconcerned, and shrugs off her jacket. The corner of her t-shirt lifts up as she does so and Hancock withholds a wince, spying a violet bruise spread over her hip. Her boots and socks are similarly slipped off and carefully placed aside her blanket. With that, Mina stretches and opens the rusted door. A rush of cool air immediately follows it and as soon as she steps out into the night and out of sight, Hancock feels a strange surge of protectiveness. 

He groans loudly, unhappy to have to leave warmth of his blanket and shrug off the proximity of a good night’s sleep, but if anything happens to her he’ll be plagued with guilt for days and that’s sure as hell the last thing he wants right now. 

Adjusting his hat, he makes his way over to the doorframe and leans against it. She’s only a few feet out but he watches as the rain pelts against her shoulder, auburn hair darkening with each passing moment. It isn’t coming down that hard, more of a shower than anything, but Hancock spies the slope of her shoulders ease. Mina is always on edge somehow, a constant tension present in every angle and muscle within her body, but here and now, drenched and shivering, she seems different. 

He watches her hands lift, glistening under what little moonlight peeks through the swollen clouds. Mina tilts her head back and the t-shirt clings to every bone in her body. She looks peaceful, he realizes, amidst the storm. Whatever this moment may be, as simple as it all is, this brings her peace and he won’t interrupt that. God knows she could use a break. 

Hancock stands silent guard for the next few minutes and when she finally turns, the grin on her face is enough to make his chest ache. He’s never seen her smile like that, absolute and bright, unflinching and certain. Maybe she was like this before the war. 

He doesn’t know what to do or say as she steps back into the room, shivering violently, and throws another handful of newspapers on the fire to kindle it once more. Averting his gaze as she peels off her shirt and slips back into her jacket once again, Hancock catches her gaze once she’s settled back once more in front of the fire. “Worth it, sister?”

“Absolutely,” She nods quickly and pulls her knees towards her chest, grin shifting to reveal a distant embarrassment now. “I promise I won’t let Nick blame you when I get sick.”

One last newspaper is placed atop their small fire and he sits aside her, shrugging off his threadbare jacket with a heavy sigh. It’s placed carefully over her knees in an attempt to further keep her warm, a likely impossible task. She nods her appreciation and there’s another flash of that grin once again, even as she tucks her chin over her legs and shivers. 

Against the embers of the fire, he catches glimpse of the freckles that have recently appeared across the bridge of her nose, coaxed out by the sunlight of the Wealth’. If he didn’t know better, and he does, Hancock would think Mina something that needed protecting like this. He can see bruises, some faded and some fresh, coating pale skin and the arch of her cheekbone has never been sharper as her hair clings to her neck, but she looks so perfectly, determinedly, furiously  _ alive  _ that he can’t help but stare. 

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, so he gently eases an arm around her shoulder and works not to smile when she silently rests her head against him. 


End file.
